It was one of those dreamy days, such as we have lately had here. The birds and insects dropped their wings in the boughs. I hastened through the pathways, glowing with the sun, and sought the “Grove of Egeria.” I went, singing to myself that pretty bit of Handel,
“Where’er you walk, cool gales shall fan the glade;
Trees where you sit shall crowd into a shade.”
It was in harmony with the scene—all was calm—the glare of the heavens could not penetrate there—and I sauntered leisurely on, enjoying the solitude, and sat down beneath the branches of a noble plane-tree. Suddenly I heard a sound of horses’ feet; I thought it was some one passing along the high road hidden by the plantations; the sound drew nearer; I looked through a long green vista—it was Clarence Fairfax, followed by his groom; he looked up as he approached. I was standing in a natural arch, with the light streaming down through an opening above. I never thought of drawing back, as I ought to have done, for Lady Amabel would have objected to our meeting in this retired spot. Clarence saw me, waved his forage-cap, and, springing from his horse, threw the reins to the groom.
He was in the grove in an instant, and at my feet, as I reclined, trembling with emotion, under the plane-tree boughs.
Ah! Major Frankfort, had you heard his gentle words, his expressions of pleasure at meeting me alone—the contrasts he drew between other girls and me; had you seen his smile, as he held my hand in his, and looked upon me!—you would not have doubted that he loved me.
But he terrified me by desiring—ah! he was very imperative—that I would say nothing to Lady Amabel of this meeting.
I would have retreated from the grove, but he seized me by the hand, and entreated me to listen to his reasons for delay.
Woe is me! I did listen to this once—only this once.
One might write volumes on such a text; but I was firm in not consenting to another meeting. I had been brought up in the few of doing wrong.